


A King's Decision

by CaseyStar



Series: Merthur Party 2013 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/pseuds/CaseyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's magic is revealed in a big way and he must admit to Arthur what he is and abide by the king's decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A King's Decision

**Author's Note:**

> for Prompt three of Merthur Party 2013 - The Once and Future King and The Greatest Sorcerer  
> dedicated to my king - ilurvedoctorwho
> 
> Over on tumblr [ kcsplace](http://kcsplace.tumblr.com), so come say hello here if you want.

“No!” 

The magic roared out of Merlin, as if it had been waiting, just beneath the surface of his skin, waiting for his command, ready to protect Camelot, to protect Arthur. 

The blast wave ripped trees from the earth, flattened the tents of the opposing army, tore men from their feet and threw them like dolls through the air. 

“Arthur!” Merlin was tearing across the flattened landscape, outstripping the knights laden in their chainmail and weaponry, leaping over those who had fallen as he focused on the body of his king, golden hair dark with sweat and dirt and blood.

“Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.” Dropping to his knees, Merlin wasn’t aware of speaking as he rolled the other man onto his back, ducking down to check his breathing, unable to tell over his own heaving gasps. 

Reaching over Arthur, over the blood that stained his hauberk, Merlin plucked Excalibur from the ground, hand trembling as he held the blade before red lips, a sob wrenching free as it misted. 

“Don’t do that again,” he whispered into the blonde’s ear, “don’t do this to me again.”

Walking on his knees, he shuffled closer, cradling Arthur’s upper body onto his thighs, and screamed over his shoulder.

“Get Gaius. Somebody get Gaius.” Lost in the undulation of Arthur’s chest, watching his king breathe it was some time before Merlin took notice of the unnatural hush that overfallen the forest. Turning his head, he saw the knights standing several feet away, Gwaine and Percy at their head. Every gaze was on Merlin though not one man had drawn his weapon.

“Get Gaius.” Merlin repeated. There was no way that he was going to be able to lie on this one and he wasn’t even going to try. If Arthur lived to have him hanged, then at least Arthur lived. He watched Gwaine nod to one of the knights to his left, the man’s red cloak billowing blood red in his wake as he tore back towards Camelot’s encampment.

“So you’ve got magic then, ay Merlin?” Gwaine’s voice wasn’t darkened with the knowledge, and he seemed more inquisitive than angry.  
“Yeah.”

“We’ll be chatting about this later.” The knight unclasped his cloak and stepped forward to drape it over Arthur, Percy wrapping his own around Merlin, the edges falling over his hands, framing Arthur’s face. At their actions the rest of the army noticeably relaxed and whilst they came no closer, whispering broke out and the occasional cheer of Merlin’s name.

“I see there’s been a very localised windstorm,” Gaius announced as he made his way carefully across the field, the despatched knight carrying his bags as the elderly man pushed his way through the knot of soldiers. 

“They know Gaius.”

“I should think they do my boy. Not very subtle were you?”

“I didn’t have time, Gaius.” The physician looked down at the unmoving King and frowned.

“No. I see that. Well, let’s see what can be done. Gwaine, help me with his armour. A stretcher is coming up now.” Merlin watched as his mentor quickly assessed Arthur, heart sinking at the deepening furrow between Gaius’ eyebrows. “Yes, the quicker we get back to camp, the better.”  
**** ****  
Four days Merlin sat by Arthur’s bedside, tending to the wounds that Gaius assured him looked worse than they were. The infection from the wound in his side was what kept the man asleep, fever heating his brow and sweat drenching the sheets. Gaius spent more time tending to Merlin than he did Arthur, urging him to eat and drink, giving up after the second day trying to get the young man to sleep. Gwaine and Percy stood guard at the entrance to the king’s tent, keeping away those that wanted to gawp at the sorcerer that had had them all fooled. For most, Merlin was the first sorcerer they had every come across and he couldn’t have been further from the nightmares they had all been warned of by their parents and the late king. Only a handful of men in the camp had been dissenters and they’d been fairly surprised to find themselves arrested by their brothers-in-arms. 

“Merlin.” 

Merlin’s head snapped up and his body jack-knifed forwards, leaning over the sick bed. 

“I’m here.” 

Arthur’s head lolled towards him, eyelids fluttering as he tried to open them. “Merlin?”

“You idiot. Swords are sharp, you’ve got to stop running towards them.” Merlin chose to ignore how his voice cracked, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks, staining his tunic. He wiped a damp cloth across Arthur’s eyes, freeing them of sweat and sleep.

“Camelot?” Arthur blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light, though his gaze never faltered from Merlin’s face.

“We won. Camelot is safe.” A smile tugged at the king’s lips, and Merlin’s heart sank at what he knew he had to say next. Arthur deserved to hear it from him, not as gossip and hearsay.

“We won because of me.” 

Arthur huffed his amusement, a hand flailing to grasp a hold of Merlin’s arm. 

“I know you take great pride in my armour, but even it did not dazzle the enemy into defeat.” How Merlin wished he could partake of their usual banter, but his heart was beating a tattoo against his chest that he feared would cause it to rib free of his body, his blood rushing in his ears.  
“Arthur,” Merlin swallowed, mouth dry as sand, “I have magic.”

“What? No. Merlin, not you. I would know.” Though his voice was still weak, it rang with his conviction.

“It’s true, Arthur. You can ask any of the knights, they saw what I did.” Ice ran through Merlin’s veins as Arthur turned from him, hand releasing its grasp on his wrist. Without it, Merlin felt cold, frozen to the spot. 

“For you, Arthur. I use it only to protect you. To build the Albion you are destined to create.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur stared resolutely at the tent wall, the heavy fabric buffeted by the wind outside, and Merlin knew what he had to do. Reaching out, he called his magic forth, the flame of the candles leaping from the wicks and forming the shape of a roaring dragon against the fabric.

“It has all only ever been for you.”

Arthur lay silent, head unmoving as he stared at the dragon, its fiery wings beating the air.

“It was you.” The accusation was flat, Arthur’s tone cold.

“Yes.” Merlin saw no point in denying it. “I didn’t know what he’d do. I swear it Arthur.”

“It’s not dead, is it?”

“No,” Merlin sighed. “I sent him away.”

The muffled sounds of the camp outside filled the silence as Arthur fell quiet once more.

“I’m sorry.” 

Merlin blinked in shock at Arthur’s words. “What?”

“About your father.”

“Oh,” Merlin’s voice was small, almost a whisper. “Thank- thank you.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve used magic to save me, is it?” Arthur rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, eyes darkly bruised in his pale face.

In for a penny, in for a pound. “No.”

“Who else knows.”

“Uh, well, all the knights. They, uh, saw.”

“And Gaius.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He couldn’t allow Gaius to-

“What am I saying, of course he knows.”

“Arthu-”

“Were you laughing about it? Hmmm? Poor oblivious Arthur?” Arthur's voice lost the softness it had held as he commiserated with Merlin over Balinor.

“No!” Merlin yelled. “No,” he repeated, softly this time. “Never. I never wanted to put you in a position where you either had to lie to your father or send me to the gallows.”

“My father died some time ago Merlin.”

“But the laws have not. I had no idea how you might-”

“Leave me.” Unlike so very many of Arthur’s commands, this one was quiet but firm, his jaw set pugnaciously as if he were just waiting for Merlin’s refusal so he had an excuse to rant and rail.

Closing his eyes against the pain, the hot sting of tears prickling his eyes, sliding down his cheek, Merlin stood on weak legs, head spinning as he turned away from Arthur and walked to the tent entrance, glancing over his shoulder as he pushed the flap aside, assaulted by the noise of the camp and the silence of the tent, Arthur still not looking toward him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before ducking out. Gwaine’s hand on his shoulder would have sent him to his knees were it not for Percy’s reassuring grip unobtrusively holding his elbow to keep him upright.

“Princess will come round Merlin,” Gwaine assured him. “It’s a bit of a shock, you know?” Gwaine’s smile lacked its normal verve, but he stood close, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s slender shoulders. “You’re just…Merlin. Magic or no.”

Unbidden, a smile tugged at Merlin’s lips, warmth blooming at Gwaine’s easy acceptance and solid friendship.

“Come on, Gaius left orders you were to eat and rest.” Guiding his friend, tugging him close to his side, the knight began to lead a reluctant Merlin away from the tent, Percy remaining to stand guard, smiling at Merlin when the sorcerer turned to glance back.

“The cook is pretty terrible, I’ll warn you- hey can you turn water into ale?” Gwaine asked, tone serious, looking pleased at the huff of laughter he surprised out of Merlin though the expression faded when Merlin’s face fell once more, his steps slow and leaden, twisting to look back at the tent every few steps.

“Give him some time Merlin. It’ll be fine.”

Merlin wasn’t so sure.  
*** *** ***  
The food tasted like sawdust to Merlin, and he couldn’t choke down more than a few mouthfuls under Gaius’ watchful gaze, but not even his disapproval when Merlin pushed the bowl of porridge away could cause him to eat any more.

“Gaius.” Leon strode to their table. “King Arthur requests your presence.” As though he had been expecting it, Gaius stood, eyes on Merlin.

“Get some rest, my boy.”

“Gaius, he-”

“Get some rest.” Gaius stared at Merlin until the young man nodded, fear clenching his stomach as his body threatened to reject what little he’d forced down as he watched Gaius make his way towards Arthur’s tent, head held high.  
*** *** ***  
“You knew.” Gaius had barely pushed the flap open, before Arthur spoke. He’d heaved himself to a sitting position, one elbow resting on his knees, the other hand pressing against his bandaged side, head tipped towards his chest and his face pale with pain.

“Arthur, he is your friend. Before anything, he is your friend.” 

“I want him gone.” Arthur’s tone brooked no defiance but Gaius saw the slump to the king’s shoulders, sensed the hesitation within him.

“There is no need to fear him.” Arthur scoffed, a harsh, broken sound.

“Send him back to Camelot, with word the battle is won.” 

“You cannot send Merlin away. I will go.” Gaius would not allow Merlin or Arthur to leave this camp until this was resolved and if that meant defying the king, then so be it.

“I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer.” Arthur removed the hand over his bandage, pinpricks of blood staining the pristine white. Gaius wished to order him to lie flat once more, but Arthur was unlikely to listen.

“He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine. Arthur, he doesn't just have magic...there are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth.”

“Merlin?” Arthur sneered.

“He has saved your life, my life more times that even I can count. He has protected your kingdom. Everything he has ever done was for you, Arthur.”

Gaius sank into the chair Merlin had vacated, resting a callused and ink stained hand upon Arthur’s knee.

“I once told you that I was not the only one seeking to protect you. That there were others that believed in the world you are trying to build and that one day you would understand, and see just how much they have done for you.” Arthur’s head rose, blue eyes bloodshot but piercing.

“This is that day, Arthur.”  
*** *** ***  
It was Gwaine that came for him the next morning. Merlin had spent the night huddled on his bedroll, unable to keep warm despite the roaring fire and blankets. Gaius had stayed awake with him, silent on the other side of the fire, eyes glistening in the firelight as he kept watch.

For once Gwaine was quiet, keeping pace with Merlin, standing proudly at his shoulder as though they were walking to the tavern rather than to Merlin’s judgement. He kept others in the camp from crowding around Merlin, glowering at those that began to whisper as they passed, hand moving unsubtly to his sword hilt as they passed a crop of knights that loudly began to discuss the outcome of Arthur’s summons, the group falling silent immediately.

Gwaine stopped several paces short of the tent, clapping a kind hand onto Merlin’s shoulder and nodded. 

Finishing the walk alone, Merlin took a deep breath, legs reluctant to take him those few feet further to push back the flap and face Arthur. He had faced down dragons, and griffins, warlocks and ghosts but this, standing before the man he loved and hearing his judgement, was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

His feet felt like lead as he lifted them to push past the tent entrance. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the cot, a fresh bandage wrapped around his abdomen and Merlin’s heart clenched with fondness and a desire to keep Arthur from any and all harm. But he’d failed, and now it was he himself who had wounded Arthur, perhaps in a way he had no chance in healing.  
“Ar-”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“I’ve wanted to,” Merlin vowed, hurrying to Arthur’s side, hands reaching out to touch Arthur before aborting mid-air, falling back down by his side as he sank to his knees. “Since the day I arrived.”

“Had yesterday not happened, would you have told me?” Arthur asked again, head tilting slightly towards Merlin, knees widening to allow Merlin between them as he swayed towards his king.

“Yes.” Of that Merlin was sure. “I couldn’t trust anyone else to protect you the way I can. I couldn’t be sent from your side.”  
“You’ve lived with the threat of death over you every day since you arrived.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you. Because I will do whatever I must to keep you alive. Not because of your rank, not just because of the peace you will bring, but because I love you. I was born to serve and protect you. I don’t stay because it is my destiny to stand by your side. I stay because _you_ are my destiny.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, gaze flitting across Merlin’s face, searching his expression for the truth, face relaxing as he found what he sought.

“Are you mine?”

“What?” This was not how Merlin had expected his execution to be announced.

“Come here.” 

Merlin didn’t hesitate to lean closer, fighting down a flinch as Arthur raised his hand, the back of cool fingers stroking against Merlin’s cheek and trailing along his jaw, before dropping to hook his fingers into the scarf around his neck and tugging him closer.

Arthur’s lips were chapped and dry as they pressed against Merlin’s, chaste yet firm. It had happened so fast Merlin still had his eyes open, entranced at the fan of blonde lashes against Arthur’s tan cheeks as his king swiped his tongue along the seam of his lips.

All too happy to allow his eyes to slide closed, Merlin let his mouth fall open, teasing the sensitive underside to Arthur’s tongue with the tip of his own as Arthur explored his mouth, insistent and playful.

Arthur twisted Merlin’s ridiculous scarf around his hand, the rough cloth gripped tight between his still weak fingers as he used his hold to get Merlin even closer, other hand sliding around Merlin’s chest and under his arm, tugging him forward onto the bed, onto him, muffling the Merlin’s squawk of protest, uncaring as Merlin’s weight pressed against his wound, hand sliding to the small of Merlin’s back to nudge their hips closer, closer, closer still.


End file.
